Chapter: American Soil
Shalan's Say: Hey guys… I know it's been a while since I last wrote to you guys… I just had a burst of intelligence… (it only happens every once in a while…)
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Blood bubbled out of his mouth, dripping down his chin as he trembled in the throes of death. "Hold on man… we'll get out… you'll get home and everything'll be fine…" His commanding officer held him gently in his arms. The man nodded, her eyes fading. The wound in his abdomen seeping stomach acid and blood. Ichigo looked at the other men around him, all in various states of decay. His breath came in desperate gasps, the wounds in his body taking their toll. The man in his arms suddenly relaxed and Ichigo closed his eyes.
"Striker…" A man called from the other side of the hill. "Striker…" Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the choked voice call his name. He pressed the back of his head against the dirt of the makeshift barricade they had made. The man next to him looked over.
"Sir, isn't that Hound? Shouldn't we go get 'im?" Ichigo didn't respond to the Brooklyn man.
"Striker… LT…" He called out, blood gurgled in his throat as he called and Ichigo felt his stomach revolt against him.
"That is Hound, go get him sir!" The other repeated. The other men were in various places, lying on their stomachs or squatting behind trees. The Vietnamese weapons they had stolen gripped tightly in their hands.
"No." Ichigo breathed, he could taste his own blood, smell the air thick with it, hear the breaths from the filthy Viet Cong. He could see their positions in his mind. He could feel the ground beneath him and anything that was on it. His fingers meshed with the soft mud, soaked with the blood of his pot luck soldiers. He opened his eyes again, looking around them. His name called again from the man on the other side of the hillock. He could hear his own breathing. It was almost like being outside of his own body. Everything was ghostly slow, out of focus, slowly slipping away.
Rain drizzled on the group, this mismatched group of POWs that had broken their own way out of the Viet Cong's hold. As the highest ranked commissioned officer he was required to be their commander, and he stood by his troops. Ichigo closed his eyes, raised his weapon and dove out from behind the hill towards Hound's body, he slammed into the ground as gunfire littered the area. Hound smiled shakily up at him, the wound in his side bleeding. Ichigo closed his eyes in relief, placing his forehead against the other marine's "Semper fi…(1)" he whispered.
Click. The wrenching of a grenade pin, an explosion. His eyes snapped open.
Sweat soaked his body, his eyes staring at the ceiling fan of his own home. His breaths shuddered through his body, again, that phantasmal feeling. Everything in the room spun, voices became muffled, the world itself melted. A hand brought him back from his past and he started, grabbing the hand reflexively. Rukia gasped and he stared, for only a moment, into Hound's eyes again before they faded away into his wife's. Rukia stroked the side of his face tenderly.
"Ichigo…" her voice was calm and he drew her into his arms, a hand at the back of her head as she buried her face into the side of his neck. He kissed the top of her face, until he was satisfied that he was really in her arms. Their lips met, he kept his eyes open, as if the demons from his nightmares were just around the corner.
Her fingers drizzled down his neck and powerful chest, down his abdomen to trace the line of his hip. Her small hand rested itself on his hip and he closed his eyes under her touch. In her arms, nothing could touch him.
"There are no Charlie(2) in America." She whispered in his ear.
"India Kilo November Oscar Whiskey(3)." He answered, his eyes still closed.
"India Lima Oscar Victor Echo Yankee Oscar Uniform…(4)" His lips brushed her eyelid as she spoke. He trailed down her face to meet her lips again, the sweet taste of freedom. She relished in the feeling of his tongue sliding against hers. His hand sliding down her neck, across her breast, down her waist, his breath on her neck.
"I'm sorry…" he muttered against her skin, pressing his cheek to her collarbone. She shook her head. His bush tan was darker than it had been. His upper body so dark it was nearing coal black.
"Ichigo… you can't control it…" she fingered the now brown and yellow piece of lace he wore around his wrist. She smiled. It had been there for nearly six years. She had given it to him just before he had graduated from West Point.
"I've always kept it…" he whispered. "I took it off just before I was caught. They took it but the General kept it… so when… I… killed him I took it back…" He touched his fingers to hers as well as the lace.
"It's stained like blood…" her eyes dimmed. She had more where that piece had come from… but she hoped that she would never have to give him another.
"I know… I'll have to get a new one huh?" Ichigo said thoughtfully, toying with the piece of cloth tied around his wrist. She blinked and then stared at him.
"No Ichigo…" Rukia looked up at him and he continued to play with the lace.
"It's my duty Rukia…" He bit down, his jaw visibly clenching.
"No… Ichigo…" he glanced up, but only for a moment only to return his eyes to the lace at his wrist. She rested her hand on his chest and he turned away, standing up off the bed. Her fingers slid down the rivers of muscle in his back across his firm buttocks, her fingers hiccupped on his skin before landing on his hand. He gripped her hand tenderly for a moment before letting go. He watched out of the corner of his eye, his shoulder hiding her body from view. Her eyes were hidden beneath her bangs, her long black hair draped over her shoulders. He turned his back, closing his eyes as he slipped his feet into the faded jeans on the floor. He pulled them up, buttoned them, and walked out the bedroom door.
Rukia pressed her face into the pillow, her tears cascading down her cheeks and suddenly she felt as though she could see him, standing out in the pouring rain, letting the water run down his chiseled upper body, drenching his dreams, soaking his sorrow, whetting his wishes.
Ichigo breathed in deeply. The dirt smelled differently here. It smelled like moisture, like freshly cut grass, like decomposing flowers. The air ran differently through his body, like a sweet song in his mind, drinking it in like a shot of whiskey he took in deep breaths to calm his shaking body. To calm the pain that raged in his heart. His fingers traced the long scar extending from his upper right arm to his lower, in a long diagonal scar that was only complete when he placed his hand on his neck, squeezing his bicep and forearm together. It was a shiny white scar that was new on his body. He slid a finger along it and its birth returned to his mind.
It burned. The bayonet of a Viet Cong weapon. The man was young, around 19. Ichigo had swung around, shooting him in the face. Ichigo watched, hearing only his own blood pumping in his veins, only the heavy breathing of his own lungs as the man's forehead was torn from his body. But he didn't have time to contemplate the vastness of death then. He didn't have the time to worry about the thick, mucus like blood collecting on his arm and dripping on his hand. The slick liquid dripped onto Hound's shoulder as he grabbed him, dragging him back behind the hill as the gun fire continued.
"Daddy…" His eyes slammed open and he returned to reality again. A small hand slipped into his and he looked down. Arisu stood next to him, her single pig tail messy from sleep, her velveteen rabbit she had snuck from his chest in the attic under her other arm, her little white night dress soaked around the shoulders. He delicately wrapped his much bigger hand around hers and she dragged herself under his arm, pressing her head to his hip. "Why are you out here in da wain?" Her big blue eyes stared up at him. Just like her mother. He cursed inwardly.
"I'm thinking…" he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on her. This was foreign to him. All he had ever known was war. All he had known was running. All he had known was keeping himself and his platoon alive… this little girl, this concept that he had created her, the concept that she was his offspring was baffling.
"What are you tinking about?" She blinked and he chuckled. She couldn't say th.
"Daddy's thinking about what we're going to do tomorrow…" he knelt down on one knee in front of her. He had felt so disconnected from her since he had met her. He felt as though… she wasn't his… though the signs that she was were fairly obvious… he felt as though he had had no part in her creation.
"Daddy's wying…" She said bluntly, her cerulean eyes looking deep into his soul. "Daddy's sad. Awisu can see it in his eyes… he's hurting… hewe…" she touched her hand to his heart and his lips parted, near shock, his eyes darkening. She knew him… too well. "Will Daddy teww Awisu what's wong?" She sat down in the grass, the rain still pouring down around them. Ichigo stared at her. It was too much for her to know. He swallowed. Too much for her to understand.
"Arisu…" he choked and she patted the grass.
"Sit down Daddy…" she demanded and he automatically followed the command. He then thought it ridiculous that his body had obeyed an order from a three year old but dismissed it upon further inspection.
"Daddy was in a war…" he watched her. She seemed to take in his story like a sponge. What seemed an hour later she was sitting in his lap in the rain, listening to him talk about the things he had done in Viet Nam. "There was this one guy we called Hound…" Ichigo laughed, he had thought up all of the good times, Hound was one of them.
"Hound? Like Lizzie's doggy?" Arisu blinked.
"Lizzie?" Ichigo's quizzical look reached his daughter.
"A fwend of mine fwom day cawe." She grinned. He shook his head with a smile.
"I guess… he was called that because everyone in his squad told him that he looked like a droopy eyed Basset Hound." Ichigo chuckled and his daughter giggled, yawning at the same time. He smiled again, suddenly his heart swelled for his daughter and wife. Suddenly his indifference melted. He realized that they were there to listen, even this little 3 year old girl was willing to sit in his lap and let him talk his heart out, all the while soaking up his every word. Suddenly all the color flooded back into his world. He picked her up, cradling the soaked child in his muscular arms, she rested her head against his chest as he walked into the house.
"Daddy… I'm all wet…" she mumbled and he nodded, carrying her into her bedroom. He set her down in the middle of her pink and white room and stripped her night gown off, his fingers fumbling slightly with the tiny little buttons.
"Fcking women and their fcking contraptions…" he muttered under his breath as he tossed her night gown over his shoulder and wrapped a fluffy towel around her, rubbing her hair of. "I'm going to take Babbi and dry him for you okay?" Ichigo mumbled to her, rubbing her briskly but gently. She nodded as he scrubbed her hair. From her drawer he produced a soft long sleeved pink night gown and pulled it over her head and slipped her arms through the holes. She nodded off as he lifted her up and tucked her into the bed.
"Night Daddy…" she mumbled and he smiled. "I love you…" his eyes dimmed as he saw the faint light from the crack in the door, and the figure that stood in it.
"I love you too baby…" Ichigo kissed her forehead as her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. He gave her one last hug before turning to his wife. She was looking at him curiously, she had never seen him act that way with their daughter since he had returned. Her eyes met his and she recognized the look he gave her.
Her back slammed against the wall of their bed room, his lips setting her body on fire, his hips grinding against hers so hard she thought she would break under the pressure. Her hands gripped for something on the wall, finding nothing her nails dug into the wood of the sideboard. Her gasps for air sent his already frenzied mind into overdrive as their bodies sang in harmony. His hands raked her body, her skin trembling under his touch as he carried her through the lands of nirvana into just tireless carnal desire into furious lust, jealous of the other for reaping more than the other.
Her nails dragged down his back, her air only entering her body through the quick gasps through her teeth, and the heavy moans that shook her entire body. Their lips clashed, fighting for dominance, their tongues tangling together furiously.
It was the first time in 4 years that he had felt so passionate about anything but his own safety. It was the first time since he had returned that he wanted to prove to her how much he had missed her, how much she meant to him, how much she had done for him since he had left. Tears mingled with their sweat as her hands gripped his face, their bodies rocking together.
"I love you…" Ichigo choked, suddenly the scent that he hadn't recognized when she had met him at the airport, the scent that she had carried with her when he had seen her in Viet Nam. The scent she had carried even in Okinawa came to him, it was a beautiful scent.
Of flowers and perfume and freshly cut grass. Of herbs and gardens and hot dogs. Of baseball stadiums and fresh tilled earth. Of corn bread and fried chicken. Of freshly baked cookies and coffee. Of wet roses in a bride's bouquet… of bittersweet lovemaking… and of a comfortable seat on the carpet in front of a fire to the side of an evergreen tree draped in popcorn strings and gingerbread men while snow fell slowly outside the window, collecting on the ground, soon to be trampled in by little kids bundled like penguins in their winter coats…
The scent of American Soil.
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For those of you who are not familiar with phonetics and commons terms used in the military during this time… here ya go:
(1) SemperFidelis: marine motto… means always faithful in Latin
(2) Charlie: Viet Cong is the term for the Vietnamese guerillas that worked in harmony with the NVA (Army of Viet Nam) in phonetics they would call them Victor Charlie or VC sometimes shortened by the men on the ground as Charlie
(3) India Kilo November Oscar Whiskey: in plain English this means I KNOW spelled out in phonetics. Being that Ichigo had just come out of a state of PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) he was still in his Viet Nam mindset
(4) India Lima Oscar Victor Echo Yankee Oscar Uniform…: I LOVE YOU spelled out in phonetics… Rukia's way of reminding him that she is there…
COMPLETE LIST OF PHONETICS:
Phonetics are used to replace whole words. The first letter of the word represents the letter it is used for… they will appear in alphabetical order:
Alfa
Bravo
Charlie
Delta
Echo
Foxtrot
Golf
Hotel
India
Juliett
Kilo
Lima
Mike
November
Oscar
Papa
Quebec
Romeo
Sierra
Tango
Uniform
Victor
Whiskey
X-ray
Yankee
Zulu
Hello… I really REALLY liked that chapter… sorry it was so damn long… read and review or I shall bring back public hangings…
I love you all
Shalan